


Folly

by Defira



Series: Tarnished Silver [3]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: F/M, Forbidden, Heterosexual Sex, Loss of Virginity, Protectiveness, Romance, Secret Relationship, Temptation, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-21
Updated: 2011-10-21
Packaged: 2017-10-24 20:26:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/267542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Defira/pseuds/Defira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The follow up to Eavesdropping, set about two weeks afterwards</p><p>In Act II, Hawke kills the Templar Varnell in retaliation for the torture and murder of the Qunari delegate and his guards. Interestingly, no retribution is ever forthcoming for this act- both the Chantry and the Gallows seem to turn a blind eye to his actions in exchange for peace.</p><p>But what of Bethany, trapped in the Gallows as a Circle Mage, at the whims of any Templars who might share Varnell's views on the Qunari? Wouldn't she be at risk of violence and worse from the more fanatical elements in the ranks, who perhaps might take offense that her older brother slaughtered one of their own?</p><p>Knight Captain Cullen certainly thinks so. And he's not about to let Garrett Hawke's folly put Bethany in danger. Resisting her might be harder and harder, but no harm will come to her under his watch... until his plan to keep her safe backfires in the most temptingly dangerous of ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

There was a knocking at the door.

Cullen groaned and considered burying his face in his pillow so that the noise would be blocked out. He had no idea what time it was, but he knew that it was still dark and he had been deeply asleep only a few moments ago; for a moment he wondered whether it was simply a misunderstanding, whether it was just a noise in the corridor outside his quarters and no one was trying to drag him cruelly from his bed in the middle of the night. But the clinging tendrils of sleep were brushed away when the knocking came again, more persistent, and he came to his senses. No one would be interrupting him at this hour unless something was truly amiss.

He wrenched himself upright, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand as he crossed the small room towards the door; he made it safely from his sleeping quarters and into his office without incident, but then hit his hip against the edge of his desk in the dark. He winced and limped the rest of the way to the door, pulling it open just as the knocking began to sound a third time.

There was a man in full armour on the other side, his hand raised to complete the summons he’d been rapping out on the wood. Cullen dredged through his sleep addled brain to find his name. “Ser Taris,” he said, trying to sound authoritative rather than slurred and drowsy. “Report.”

The knight placed his clenched fist over his chest and bowed stiffly. “Apologies for waking you, Captain, but the Knight Commander wishes to speak to you. It is a matter of grave urgency.”

“Of course,” he said, rubbing at his eyes again. “Please tell the Commander that I will be with her shortly, once I have changed into something more appropriate-”

“She anticipated that you would say that, ser, and she wished for me to tell you that no one damn well cares at this hour of the night if you’re wearing a shirt with patched elbows.” The knight coloured and tried very hard to keep his eyes on his captain’s face, rather than glancing down at the offending garment. “Apologies, ser, but those were her exact words and she was rather adamant.”

With a rueful sigh, Cullen said “Fine then. I’ll grab my boots and be on my way. I will be right behind you.”

He hurried back into the dark rooms, carefully avoiding the desk this time. As he pulled on his boots, he glanced down at his sleepwear, which- while not as bad as Meredith had made it sound, - certainly wasn’t something he’d be comfortable walking around the fortress in on a regular basis. The shirt was old and a little ragged on the hems, but patched elbows? He wasn’t a Darktown beggar, he just liked to be comfortable. There were very few comforts in the life of a religious knight, and if he happened to like sleeping in an old shirt and baggy pair of breeches, it was hardly anyone else’s business.

Until, of course, when nights like this arose and his Commander insisted that he had to attend _immediately_ to whatever crisis had developed. Well, he was the Knight Captain, Maker take them all. They’d just have to deal with his rather unfashionable apparel.

Ser Taris was waiting in the hallway for him when he emerged, and they set off together down the corridor towards Meredith’s rooms. “What time is it, ser knight?” Cullen asked, fighting off a yawn.

“It’s just after two, Knight Captain. Again, I really must apologies for waking you, but Knight Commander Meredith-”

“I know, I know; save your breath, man.” They reached the room of the Commander in no short order and Ser Taris bowed again, fist clenched over his breastplate. “I must return to my post, ser. Please, do not hesitate to ask if you should need anything more.”

Cullen nodded to him, already turning the handle to Meredith’s quarters and stepping inside. He saw no need to knock- she was clearly expecting him and it was also clear that she wouldn’t have disturbed him for anything but the direst of circumstances.

“Cullen.” She wasn’t facing the door; she was standing by the window with her arms crossed, her posture stiff and unbending as always. It was a shock to see her dressed so casually, but she had clearly only recently come from bed as well. Her clothes were hardly any better than his; she was wearing a billowing tunic that was several sizes too large, the sleeves pushed up on her arms to show off wiry, scarred flesh that was more muscular than most of the men under her command. Her pale blond hair, leaning more towards grey at her temples than when he had first met her, was loose and made her look marginally younger. “I trust you didn’t stop for something as foolish as a change of clothes.”

“Only shoes,” he said, taking a seat on the far side of her desk.

“I felt I gave your escort rather specific instructions,” she said, turning away from the window; the words sounded like they should have been humorous, but there was no laughter in her eyes. “But, what is done is done.”

“Apologies, Knight Commander,” he said, nodding his head deferentially at her. “I had no idea what the emergency might be, and felt it better to be prepared.”

“Indeed,” she said, pacing slowly across the room. He could see that she was barefoot, her feet just visible beneath the overly long hem of her breeches. She was silent for a long moment, and he began to wonder if the reason for his being dragged out of bed was really all that urgent. Just when he had opened his mouth to speak, and ask what all the fuss what about, she said “Tell me, Cullen, what you know of Hawke.”

His mind immediately narrowed in on that one marvellous name, _her_ name, and he felt his fingers dig into the arms of the chair. Meredith had her back to him, gazing out the window again, and he forced himself to relax before she could turn around. What did he know of Bethany? They would run out of hours in the night before he could finish telling her everything he knew about Bethany Hawke- from the way she laughed when she danced, to the way she smiled gently at the very youngest apprentices that she coddled and protected, to the way her perfume was so very intoxicating. But he knew that wasn’t what she wanted so he forced his rampant imagination to the back of his thoughts and tried to sound aloof and professional.

“Bethany has caused us no trouble in the time she has been here, if one can discount her brother’s constant interruptions. She has been a very settling influence on some of the younger-”

“I was talking about her _brother_ , Cullen,” Meredith said coldly. She glared at him over her shoulder. “I am quite capable of assessing the character of someone who is already in my care. But you have spent time with Garrett, have you not? I wish to know what you think of him.”

He gaped for a second, before he recovered himself. Maker take it all, how could he have been so _stupid_ \- of course she was asking after Garrett, not Bethany. His infatuation was going to slip him up sooner than he would like. “Garrett comes across as aggressive and volatile, but I am of the opinion it is just a carefully maintained persona. He is wildly loyal to his family and friends, to the point of being almost tediously predictable. And he has made it no secret that his sympathies lie with mages, probably in no small part due to his sister’s imprisonment and the indoctrination he would likely have received from his father.”

Meredith was pacing again, her brow furrowed with intense concentration. “Do you suspect that he would go so far as to involve himself in that ridiculous mage underground?”

The question didn’t surprise him; he had wondered it himself on many occasions. “I wouldn’t necessarily discount the idea, but I feel he’s too savvy to risk Bethany by marking his allegiances so firmly.”

She nodded, her fingers tapping restlessly on the window sill. When a few minutes passed without a word from her, he leant forward in the chair. “Commander? If I may ask, why is it that you felt the need to discuss Garrett Hawke at this hour of the night?”

“Because, Captain,” she said slowly, fixing him with an icy stare as she turned around, “Garrett Hawke openly murdered a Templar tonight, in the defence of a Qunari. And any man or woman who takes the life of one of mine with such brazen confidence is someone who I am inclined to be _vastly_ suspicious of.”

Cullen sat back, stunned almost beyond words at Meredith’s revelation. The fury was rolling off her, her figure so tense with controlled anger that it was a wonder she didn’t explode. He struggled to find some other meaning to her words- and found nothing but the horrific truth she had spoken. “Garrett did… wait, no, what were the circumstances? I cannot believe him capable of cold blooded murder.”

Meredith began to pace again as she related the story of the missing Qunari delegate, the Viscount’s attempts to hide the issue by seeking the aid of the one man in Kirkwall that the Arishok seemed inclined to acknowledge, and the chaotic fallout when Garrett had allegedly uncovered Chantry involvement in the kidnapping and a bloodthirsty mob of fanatics led by one of their own. “And now we must be satisfied with Garrett Hawke’s version of events, seeing that he very efficiently slaughtered anyone who could gainsay his wild tale. This displeases me greatly.”

“But if he had the authority of the Viscount, we cannot do anything against him,” Cullen said, feeling his stomach churning miserably. Maker, what a mess Hawke had caused this time! “And there is the issue that Varnell clearly appears to have acted outside his authority, and that is without even taking into consideration the bodies of the Qunari which are proof of his folly. I think we have no choice but to accept his version of events, Commander.”

She didn’t answer him immediately, her eyes angry and pensive as she stared into the fireplace. “I will speak to the Grand Cleric in the morning,” she said slowly, as if she was considering her options with infinite care. “And you will seek out Hawke, to hear the story firsthand. See if you can’t find any inconsistencies in his telling of the tale.”

“And if I do, Knight Commander?”

“We will deal with this issue in a manner befitting the crime,” she said simply. She seemed to rouse herself a little from the angry contemplation she had drifted to. “It is agreed then. Return to your quarters, Captain. We will speak again in the morning.”

His thoughts in turmoil, Cullen bowed before leaving the room and making his way back down the hallway towards his own quarters; he hesitated with his hand on the door, standing in the dark as he tried to cobble together some cogent thought from the mess that was his head.

Maker’s Breath, what had Hawke done? What could he possibly have been thinking? The damnable idiot was making bigger ripples in Kirkwall with each passing day- now to have stood on the side of the _Qunari_ , and against the Chantry, however fanatical an element of the faith it was that Varnell represented…

Now there was another problem that he hadn’t considered- Varnell’s death was likely to raise all manner of hell in the ranks. He had spent the last several years based out of the Chantry itself, part of the contingent of knights who served the Grand Cleric directly for protection, but that didn’t mean he was a stranger in the Gallows. Cullen could think of more than half a dozen men who were likely to feel more than a little outraged at the death of their friend. And if Meredith declared Garrett to be off limits, if she was grudgingly satisfied with the play of events from earlier that evening, then that meant there would be only one person who could bear the brunt of their desire for vengeance.

Bethany.

His chest tightened painfully at the thought of her coming to harm as a result of her brother’s actions. He knew he shouldn’t care, knew that he should only care about duty being done with no regard for the emotional wellbeing of the mages, but… it was _Bethany_. He did not like or trust mages, and wouldn’t care if it was any other enchanter in the building at risk from a grieving, vengeful Templar. But Bethany wasn’t ‘ _any other enchanter_ ’ and he did care; far more than he should if he wanted to keep her safe and himself sane.

He rubbed his hand over his face, glancing back up the corridor towards Meredith’s rooms. The light had gone out beneath her door. “Dammit,” he cursed softly, even though he didn’t know what he was cursing in the first place.

Letting himself back into his room, he went straight to his desk and snatched up the ring of keys that granted him access to every room in the Gallows. He flicked through them in the dark, holding them up to the dim light provided by the embers in the fireplace until he found the one he was looking for- the third floor Enchanter’s Wing. He slid it from the metal ring, setting the rest of the keys back in the top drawer before he went back to the door and eased it closed as quietly as possible.

As he walked, he berated himself for his stupidity, questioning his judgement for doing this. He had to warn Bethany about what had happened, and prepare her for the very likely reality that someone would try to make her life unpleasant, at the very least. Once he knew Meredith’s thoughts on the matter, he would recommend that Bethany be kept under close watch, to ensure she came to no harm. Although knowing the Commander, her response would probably be to have Bethany locked away in solitary confinement until the matter had blown over.

He felt himself grow tense at the thought of Bethany in solitary confinement and he gritted his teeth; he had to stop thinking about her with care or concern, because it just made it that much harder to keep away from her. Knowing that she returned his affections made each day an insufferable torment, but to watch her suffer while he could do nothing to help her? It was better that they stayed away from each other, because he didn’t dare to think about how he would react if he admitted that cared for her and she came to harm.

There was no way he’d be able to contain himself if that situation ever arose. So he stayed away, for her own protection and his own peace of mind. And if sometimes at night he replayed that one magical afternoon in his head, two weeks prior when he had held her in his arms and kissed her until she trembled, there was nothing he could do except berate himself for his weaknesses.

He took the stairs two at a time, pausing when he reached the third floor as he scanned the darkness for anyone who might intercept him.

What rotation had he set the guards to tonight? He ducked into a shadowed doorway when he heard the tell-tale rasp of steel on stone, just dropping out of sight as one of his men came around the corner on patrol. He waited until the footsteps had faded into the distance before he set off again down the hallway, counting the steps in the dark as he always did, an almost unconscious action now after so long. Thirty four steps from the stairwell and he was at her door.

Glancing up and down the corridor one last time to make sure he wasn’t seen, he slipped the key into the lock and turned it, wincing when the click of the bolt sliding open echoed loudly in the empty hallway. He eased the door open just enough to slide inside and shut it with infinite care so that he wouldn’t make any more noise than was necessary.

Once he was inside, he took a deep breath to calm himself- and immediately regretted it. The whole room was infused with her unique scent, that damnably intriguing combination of honeysuckle and lyrium; he couldn’t even tell anymore if it really was a perfume, or if that was just what he’d decided she smelled like.

His common sense chose that moment to rear its head and frantically insist that he had no place being in _her_ room, two things forbidden to him by his vows- a mage _and_ a woman. He didn’t know which made her more dangerous to him. But he had to admit, this was hardly the best idea he’d ever had- her brother had just admitted to murdering one of his brothers in arms, and his first response was to dash to her room in the middle of the night? If he was discovered, the fallout would be disastrous.

Steeling himself, trying to look on this from a professional standpoint and not at all from the position of a man concerned about the woman who might possibly have been considered his lover- or as close as he was ever going to allow himself to get in any case- he turned around and surveyed her room. And immediately began to regret his decision to come here.

She had not drawn the curtains and the moonlight spilled into her room, bathing her in soft white light. He hesitated when he saw the way the bars on the windows cast shadows across her bed- even in sleep she was caged, and his soul twisted knowing that he had helped to ensnare her in the first place. She was utterly breathtaking in slumber, her ebony hair spilling out over the pillows and one hand tangled through it, carelessly flung over her head. Her lips were parted slightly, as if she were just waiting for a kiss to wake her… he shook his head, trying to think past the wild heat that flooded through him as he stared at her. Maker, she was _such_ a temptation. He had to make this quick, for both their sakes. If he lingered here, in the quiet sensuality of her bedroom, with her looking like _that_ …

He knelt beside the bed and- stared. He was supposed to wake her, but rousing her from sleep just seemed like such a crime when she looked like _that_. Soft and warm and comfortable and infinitely kissable. _Mages are not to be trusted,_ his common sense cried desperately, trying to gain his attention. _Even now, you could be her thrall, enchanted by her through dark magic alone and not by any feminine charm she possesses_.

Unable to help himself, he lifted a hand and hesitantly touched it to her cheek, her skin petal soft beneath his fingertips. She murmured wordlessly in her sleep, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth; he saw her eyes flutter open fractionally, before drifting shut again.

Then she stiffened in alarm and her eyes flew open.

She gaped at him, mouth working for several seconds before she managed to get actual words out. “ _Cullen?_ ” she breathed tremulously. There was a hint of panic in her voice. “ _What_ are you doing in my room?”

“Bethany,” he whispered, trying to keep his mind on his task and not on the way she looked so delectable with her sleep mussed hair and flushed cheeks. “I came to warn you- something has happened with your brother, and-”

“Garrett?” she said in distress, her voice several shades louder than it had been a moment ago. Before he could shush her, she sat bolt upright in bed- and the blanket pooled around her waist, revealing far too much skin and something made of silk that he assumed was supposed to be considered a nightgown but really just fell under the category of outright temptation. “What’s happened? Is he alright?”

He shook his head to try and gain control of himself, but it wasn’t working. _Blessed Andraste_ , that scrap of silk couldn’t possibly be what she wore to bed; surely there was more to her sleepwear than something held up by mere strings of lace that were half the width of his finger?

“ _Cullen!_ ” She grabbed the blanket and clutched it to her, her cheeks flaming even in the dark room. “What are you doing here? What has happened to Garrett?”

With the worst of the temptation covered by the blanket, he blinked and looked up at her again. “Um… right. Sorry.” He felt his own cheeks growing warm at his momentary lapse, and he broke her gaze. “Garrett was asked to investigate the disappearance of a Qunari ambassador. To cut a long story short, he found the ambassador, who had been murdered, and killed the Templar responsible.”

Her body grew far too still as she processed his words, and her eyes grew impossibly wide. “Garrett… killed a Templar?” she whispered.

He nodded. “That’s how it appears,” he said quietly. “I’m to go and speak with him in the morning, to learn his side of the story. But I felt you needed to know, for there is likely to be-”

“Repercussions,” she said softly; her saw her hands clench tighter in the blankets. “You think someone is going to blame me for what happened.”

“If Meredith doesn’t make you a scapegoat, then someone else will,” he admitted, feeling sick to his stomach to even say it aloud. “I will do my best, Bethany, but there’s only so much I can do without drawing further suspicion down on top of you.”

She nodded, running a hand through her hair absently with a vaguely panicked look in her eyes. “Of course, I understand.” She buried her face in her hands, the blanket falling to her waist once again. “Oh, Maker, I don’t understand! Why would Garrett be so foolish? Maybe… maybe this is just a bad dream. I’ll wake up in the morning and everything will be fine.”

He tried not to choke on his words- _Maker, you’re supposed to be comforting her, not gawking at her!_ “Bethany, everything will be fine; you have my word on that.”

“No, it won’t,” she said miserably, lifting her head from her hands. She wasn’t crying, an excellent start, but he didn’t know if he’d ever seen her look so forlorn. “If everything was going to be alright, you wouldn’t have risked so much to come and tell me in the middle of the night. If you thought everything was going to be okay, you would have waited til the morning, or let me find out through someone else.”

While his brain screamed that this was a terrible idea, he reached up and placed his hand against her cheek, running his thumb across her soft skin while she leant unconsciously into his touch. “You have my word, Bethany,” he said softly.

She sighed as her eyes drifted closed. The misery had not lifted from her entirely, but she seemed less distressed than she had a moment ago. “Cullen, I-”

There was a knock at the door.

They both froze. He saw her eyes go wider than seemed humanly possible, and he could feel her breath against his wrist, shallow and panicked. Trying not to let the panic infect him, he pulled gently against her cheek until she was facing him.

“You have to get the door,” he mouthed as silently as possible.

“But you’re here!” she hissed, her breathing growing more erratic. “If they see you-”

“I’ll hide,” he whispered, fighting to remain calm even as she slipped further into panic. “Beth, listen to me! It’ll be more suspicious if you refuse to answer.”

“But I… what if it’s about Garrett? What if they-”

“If someone meant you harm, they wouldn’t have knocked.” He stood up, all but dragging her out of bed with him. His head grew light as he took in just how insignificant her nightdress really was and he bit his lip to stop himself from reaching for her. “You have to get the door.”

She was blushing, and he saw her fingers tug at the hem of her gown, as if an extra half inch was going to make the difference compared to how much of her thighs were already showing. “I can’t answer the door!” she hissed under her breath. “I’m not-”

He snared something robe-like from the back of a chair, and pulled it over her shoulders before she could protest. There was no time to fiddle with laces or buttons, so it gaped widely at the front, revealing that gossamer slip of fabric and far too much skin. She was still blushing furiously, and tried to hold the gown closed with one hand. It didn’t do a lot of good.

The knocking at the door came a second time. “Miss Hawke?” The voice was male, and polite.

He pushed her towards the door and she glared at him. “Hide!” she whispered furiously, before succumbing and putting her hand on the doorknob. He just had time to slide across the bed and drop onto the floor on the far side, out of view of the door, before she was inching it open just enough to see who stood on the other side.

“Is something the matter, ser knight?” he heard her say politely.

There was a clink of armour, as if the Templar in question had just bowed to her. “Apologies for waking you, Miss Hawke; Knight Commander Meredith has sent me to stand guard over your door tonight. There has been an incident and she fears for your safety.”

Cullen felt his stomach drop in horror.

The tremor in Bethany’s voice couldn’t have been faked. “You’re going to stand here… outside my room… all night?”

“That’s correct, Miss Hawke. Please, be at ease. I will not intrude on your personal space, or your sleep- I am merely to stop anyone from disturbing you.”

“Wh-what happened? Why do you need to stand here?”

“I am not privy to the details, miss. I merely know that your life may be in danger and I am to stop that danger from eventuating. Please, I am sorry to have borne such enigmatic and frightening news, but put your mind to rest- nothing will get in or out of this door while I stand here. You are quite safe to sleep.”

Cullen could hear her thanking the knight, murmuring a good evening to him before the door clicked closed loudly in the silence of the night. He climbed awkwardly to his feet and stared at her across the room, the panic he saw in her eyes mirrored in his own.

He was trapped in her room.


	2. Chapter 2

They were silent for a very, very long time. Neither of them dared to move, for fear that the Templar at the door would hear them and come bursting in to defend her- only to find his Captain alone in the room with her, both of them clad only in their nightclothes.

Eventually, Bethany broke his gaze, her chin trembling as she let out a soft sound that could have been the beginning of tears. It wrenched at his heart.

“Don’t cry, Beth,” he said, clambering around the edge of the bed in the small room. When he tried to put his arms around her, she skittered backwards, pressing herself against the wall and wiping her cheeks with the back of her hands.

“No, we shouldn’t… I mean…” She turned into the wall with a soft cry of distress. “Bad enough that we could be caught together at any moment, but I can’t…”

He hesitated for a moment. “Beth?” he said softly.

He saw a shudder run though her. “We agreed to stay away from each other,” she whispered. She sounded agonised. “And you’re _here_ , and it’s everything I want but we _can’t_. If they find you here, after everything that’s already happened tonight…”

More than anything he wanted to cross the small space between them and peel her away from the wall before turning her in his arms and kissing her senseless. “I promise I will not try to take advantage of the situation,” he rasped, hoping he sounded convincing. It wasn’t really something he could promise at all; even now, with one of his men standing mere feet away, his control was only hanging by the barest of threads. _Somewhat like her nightgown_ \- he cut his thoughts off abruptly. _Stop tormenting yourself, man!_

Bethany let out a weak chuckle. “Ah, Cullen,” she whispered, turning her teary eyes back towards him. “But I can’t guarantee that _I_ won’t.”

That was probably the worst thing she could have said.

He turned away from her with a groan, taking a deep breath to try and calm the fire in his blood; of course, it did no good because the whole room was infused with the alluring scent of her and all it did was spike his desire even higher. He bit his tongue and clenched his fists at his side, fighting to get himself under control and not fall upon her like a rabid beast.

She sniffed miserably behind him. “So what do we do now?” she breathed; he tensed as he realised she’d moved closer.

He ran a hand over his face and tried to ignore the fact that he was shaking. “Now, we wait til the morning,” he whispered in response. “He will escort you to the dining hall for breakfast when you leave, and I’ll have to take my chances after that and hope that the corridor will be deserted.”

She was so close behind him that he could feel the heat radiating off her. “Cullen, I-”

“Please don’t touch me, Bethany,” he said quickly, then lowered his voice. “I am so very close to losing control right now, and if you come any closer, I… I can’t hold to my promise.”

She didn’t say anything in response, but he could picture her biting into her lip- Maker he wanted to be the one biting gently on her lip- and she moved away from him. She circled around wide, keeping as much distance between them as the small room would allow as she crossed back towards her bed.

“You can, um, have the chair,” she said softly, gesturing to the small desk she kept in her room and the elegant but flimsy seat before it; he had to wonder if the dainty thing would even support his weight. Bethany seemed to be blushing. “I mean, you don’t have to, but the alternative is the bed, and I’ll be in that, so unless you want to share-” She immediately groaned in horror and hid her face in her hands. “I’ll just stop talking now, before I make a bigger idiot of myself.”

“Well, I’ll take the offer of the chair, but I won’t be going back to sleep.” As if he could sleep now, in her room, with her so close and soft and tempting. “I think it would be better if I remained vigilant.”

She had stopped by the side of the bed, and as he watched she slid the extra robe from around her shoulders, letting it slither to the ground to pool at her feet, leaving her clad only in that silk slip. He stopped breathing. She was in profile to him, and the sight of her shapely figure outlined lovingly by the silk and the moonlight had him reaching for her before he could stop himself. She reached up to pull her hair back, seemingly unaware of the devastating effect her sensual performance was having on him, and as she raised her arms to weave her hair into a quick braid her slip rode up several inches, revealing even more perfect pale skin. His head spun as the slip crept dangerously high. His eyes didn’t seem to know where to land first, dancing over her and burning the image of her into his brain. She was perfection and temptation and _oh_ , he just wanted to touch her _once_ …

She finally seemed to realise what she was doing, sweetly oblivious before now, and she gasped; she nearly threw herself into the bed, the blankets covering her up to the neck seconds later as he snatched his hand back to his side as if he’d been burned. “That wasn’t deliberate!” she gasped, then buried her head on her upraised knees. “Maker, I’m such an idiot. You can tell I’ve never had a man in my room before.”

He swallowed uncomfortably; vastly aroused by the unintentional performance she had just given him, he had to clench his fists at his sides over and over again to try and stop them from shaking. “It’s fine, Bethany,” he said roughly, wincing at how raw his voice sounded. “It’s… not really a situation either of us have much experience with. I don’t think many people have ever found themselves in a situation like this. We’ll just make it up as we go along.” He took the seat at the desk, hesitating when he heard it creak softly.

“You should get some sleep anyway,” she whispered, deftly changing the subject. “Like you said, it’s not like anyone is going to come in here without knocking first, so we’ll have warning.”

He tried to get comfortable in the tiny chair. “I’d rather not; with the way my luck is going tonight, I’ll walk up to find Meredith standing over me.”

Something came soaring through the air towards him and he threw his hands up at the last minute to defend himself from… a blanket? He held the swathes of fabric awkwardly as he whispered “This is your blanket.”

“Your deductive reasoning astounds me, Cullen,” she snapped under her breath. He heard her fidgeting to get comfortable. “Now go to sleep.”

He couldn’t help himself. “Are... are you _angry_ at me? Why are you angry? And what are you going to use if I take the blanket?”

“I’ll be fine,” she said from between clenched teeth, pointedly ignoring his first question. “Go. To. Sleep.”

He tossed the blanket back towards the bed. “I can’t go to sleep. I have to stay awake in case someone tries to enter your room- you keep the blanket, and out of gratitude to me you can tell me why you’re angry.”

There was a sound that could have been a female groan of frustration, muffled by a pillow. “Fine! Don’t go to sleep, but at least take the blanket!” The bedspread landed over him again before he could whisper an objection.

Blessed Maker, the damned thing smelled like her. It was like wrapping himself around her body and… sweet flaming prophet, it was still _warm_. From _her_. He felt every nerve ending in his body come to life at that realisation. “You’ll be freezing,” he whispered. “I really think you should-”

“Cullen, if that blanket comes anywhere near me I will tear you into tiny, tiny pieces. And then hide the evidence of your death with the damned blanket.”

He blinked. “You sounded just like Garrett just then.”

She snorted derisively. “Because every girl wants to hear that she’s just like her brother in the intimacy of the bedroom.”

He was on his feet before he could stop himself. “That’s not what I meant and you know it,” he hissed quietly. He stomped over to the bed, where she was shivering under just a thin sheet. “You are freezing, so either you take the blanket, or I’m getting into bed with you to help you warm up.” His eyes bugged out when he realised how that sounded. “No, no, not like that! We agreed there was none of that, I just meant-”

“Quiet!” She sat up and glared at him. “Your precious little Templar at the door will hear you if you keep talking so loudly.”

“Oh, is that what your temper tantrum is about?” He put his hands on his hips, incredulity written all over his face. “The reminder that I’m a Templar?”

“Perhaps I’m just upset because my brother has been accused of murdering someone, and the man I happen to care about is likely to be the one who has to carry out any punishment that’s inflicted on me as a result. And that same man is trapped in my bedroom for the remainder of the night and yet it might as well be the other side of the world for all the things that stand in our way!”

She grabbed the blanket and wrenched hard, her fit of pique lending her strength he hadn’t expected from her; he didn’t let go in time and he went toppling onto the bed with the damned blanket. She squeaked in alarm as he came crashing down on top of her. There was a tangle of limbs as he struggled to right himself- and then he suddenly realised she was trapped beneath him, her face mere inches from his and the guilty blanket caught between them.

They were both breathing shallowly as he raised a hand up to her face and slowly ran his fingertips down the side of her jaw; her eyes widened as he could feel her breath fanning against his mouth. He already knew what she tasted like, but how much better would it be having the whole night to indulge himself, to savour her slowly for hours upon hours? How good would it be to learn the taste of every inch of skin while he memorised the shape of her with his hands? He leant towards her slowly; she tongue darted out to her lower lip and then _she_ was leaning towards him too….

There was a rapping at the door. “Miss Hawke? Is everything alright?”

They threw themselves apart; Cullen went tumbling over the far side of the bed, and Bethany scrambled upright, calling out “I’m fine! I was just… I couldn’t go back to sleep, and I tripped in the dark. But I’m fine! Everything’s fine!”

It sounded over the top, and she sounded far too sultry and breathless, but the knight did not call out again, apparently content with her answer. Cullen levered himself up from the floor, propping his elbows onto the bed. Bethany was still shuddering for air, or maybe trembling from the adrenalin of a near miss, and all he wanted to do was hold her and kiss her brow until she was calm again.

“That was far too close,” she breathed. She spoke so quietly that she was almost mouthing the words, rather than speaking them aloud.

“To being caught, or to-”

“Both,” she said instantly. “We can’t Cullen, we just… maybe in another time and place we might have been able to make something of this mess, but not here and definitely not now. If they catch you in here, you’ll lose your commission, you’ll lose everything you’ve worked so hard to achieve. You’ll be thrown out with nothing to your name- and I couldn’t bear it if that happened on my account.”

Why was she being the responsible one? That threw him a little, to realise that a _mage_ was rebuffing his advances; that a _mage_ was trying desperately to protect him, a _Templar_ , when she was the one with more to lose if they should be discovered. For him, he faced humiliation and the very real likelihood of, as she said, being stripped of his rank, with death only a vague threat. For her, death was the _best_ sentence she could receive, with Tranquility being the far more likely option. Death without death, a lifetime of simply existing, the worst thing that could be bestowed upon a human being. He’d been present at enough Rites of Tranquility to see what pain it inflicted on the unlucky mage- in the moments before they ceased being able to express pain at all.

She cared about his fate over her own. She was worried about the repercussions the night would have on his career, rather than on her own life. It was humbling, and made him uncomfortably aware that her affections ran past mere physical attraction and infatuation, and that she might very well-

“Be in love,” he said softly. He didn’t even realise he’d said spoken aloud until her head snapped around to face him.

“What did you say?” she said incredulously.

“You love me, don’t you?” Unable to help himself, he climbed up onto the bed and crawled towards her, something wild and chaotic sizzling through his veins as he drew near to her. Her eyes went impossibly wide, and her lips parted as if she meant to gasp, but didn’t quite make it that far. “Tell me it’s true.”

There was something like panic in her eyes, but it was being swamped by the desire in her expression. She began to lean subtly away, as if putting distance between them would make things safer for them. “Cullen, I think you should get off the bed now, maybe go back to the chair instead so-”

“Answer the question, Bethany.” He stalked her slowly up the bed; with every inch that she crept backwards, he followed her, until her back was pressed against the wall and the blankets were clutched protectively in front of her.

“I… I can’t answer that question,” she said, her breathing becoming more and more shallow. “Cullen, I really think you should-”

“Why can’t you answer the question? It’s a fairly straight forward one.” He planted his hands on the wall either side of her head and bent down towards her; her gasp was almost imperceptible. They were so close that their noses were nearly touching. “Yes or no?”

Her tongue flickered out to her bottom lip again- did she even realise she was doing that? - and she swallowed nervously. Their breaths were mingling and the moment was fast becoming almost unbearably intimate. Something had to give soon, and he had a terrible feeling it was going to be him.

“Cullen, I…” Her eyes darted down to his lips and back up to his gaze, then repeated the pattern. “I… I don’t know.”

Some madness urged him on. “ _Guess_ ,” he said, his voice rough with need. Maker’s Breath, what was he _doing?_ She’d already told him to get off the bed and tried to warn him repeatedly that nothing could happen between them. She was right, terribly right, it would be the worst- best- thing ever if something happened between them but right now the rational part of his brain seemed to have gone catatonic. It was blessedly silent as he leant even closer still so that his lips feathered across hers as he whispered “Yes or no?”

She whimpered- and then she _pushed_ him aside, sending him toppling onto the empty side of the bed. He was about to lunge for her, and demand an answer from her, when she whimpered again and he realised it wasn’t a sound of desire- she was crying.

Horror flooded through him, appalled at how callous he’d been with her feelings. “Oh, Beth, Maker take it all, I’m so sorry!” He sat up to reach for her, wanting to soothe her and hold her until the tears he had inflicted on her dissipated when he saw her take a deep breath as if she was about to launch into a tale.

“Three years ago,” she whispered miserably, her shoulders shaking a little in the dark, “I was attacked by a desire demon.”

He felt his blood turn to ice in his veins.

She sniffed and turned her face up; with the new angle he could see the tears tracing down her cheeks, shining in the moonlight. He wanted to reach out and brush them away, but he was frozen in place from her revelation. “I was with friends, people who could protect me; she went after them too, but together we fought her off. But she… she got inside my mind and said she knew my heart’s greatest desire. And then she showed it to me, and it was-” She choked on a sob, biting back the noise so that the guard wouldn’t hear her.

She spoke again when she had more control over herself; it didn’t last long though. “I had my own family, and I was safe and loved, and nobody cared that I was a mage. And I thought for a long time that that was my heart’s desire- to feel loved and safe and to be a mother and a wife. But t-there was m-more to it than j-just t-that.” The tears began to spill down her cheeks again and her whole body was quivering with the sobs that she was trying to keep locked inside.

Lightheaded from the intensity of his emotions, he managed to rasp out “What else was there, Beth?”

She let out a soft cry as her eyes drifted shut. “There was _you_ ,” she whispered, hiccupping on a sob. “It was a few days after I saw you for the first time in the Chantry, and I thought the d-demon had just picked out someone I found handsome just to fill the d-daydream, but then the weeks went by and I saw you again, and all the feelings that she’d planted in me came flooding b-back.” She moaned softly, sounding wounded. “I’d never even kissed someone before that night in the harbour, because all I’ve been able to think about for years is _you_. Because she showed me what it would be like to be in love with you, and I half convinced myself from that moment on that I _was_ in love with you and… and…”

He almost didn’t want to hear the ending. “And?”

A shudder ran through her. “What if I only love you as a result of her planting things in my head? What if none of my affections are real? You deserve better than that, Cullen, and I-”

She was leaning back on one arm, supporting all her weight through her wrist- he deliberately knocked it. She squeaked and went flailing backwards onto the bed, landing on her back. Before she could voice a protest, he leant down and pressed a kiss to her lips, his hand sliding up the curve of her neck to stop her from escaping. Despite her tears and her anguish, she opened to him quickly, and the little whimper that drifted from her this time was not so agonised as before.

He made the kiss as gentle as possible, coaxing her back from the misery she had inflicted upon herself moments ago until he felt her hands come hesitantly up to rest on his shoulders. He broke away just slightly, still close enough that his lips came into contact with hers as he spoke. “Tell me, Bethany- did that feel real?”

Her eyes had fluttered shut at some point and she hesitated before she answered. “I think so.”

He kissed the corner of her mouth. “Yes or no, Bethany. Either it felt real, or it didn’t.”

She took a tremulous breath before answering “Yes?”

His thumb brushed over her cheek, still damp from her tears. “Bethany, look at me.” She took a few long seconds to do as he had asked, but finally her lashes fluttered open again. “No demon has the power to still control your thoughts after three years. Unless they are in physical proximity to you, they cannot maintain a hold over you like that.”

“But she might have just planted the idea, and-”

He kissed her again, until he felt her soften beneath him. “Bethany- yes or no?”

She took a deep breath and held it, her thoughts spinning wildly; he could see the vast play of emotions as they danced through her eyes. Just when he thought she was going to refuse to answer him altogether, she sighed softly.

“Yes,” she whispered.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some liberties with Cullen's past, putting my own spin on things I guess you could say. I don't even know if it's my headcanon, but it just works a little better this way with this OTP.
> 
> Also, I've deliberately left the intimacy a little vague by my standards. I can write dirty until the cows come home, but that wasn't right for what Bethany and Cullen deserved in this scene. It was extremely hard to write, to find the right distance to give them some privacy, and it was important that this moment was about more than just sex.

The word hung between them, an ethereal promise that held much more weight than three letters ever should. Three small letters, such a small word, but it was a word that changed the world. It was a word that turned everything he thought he believed in on its head, and it was a word that changed his very reason for being. No longer was he the Knight Captain, a man loathed and feared and admired in equal parts, a man committed to a harsh and thankless path.

But from one word, he was more than that. From three letters, he was a man with the love of a woman. He was a man with the love of Bethany Hawke.

He didn’t know whether he could move; if he did, and the whole beautiful moment shattered, he didn’t know if he could bear it. “Ask me the same thing,” he whispered.

Her eyes were luminescent in the darkness, and he could feel her trembling beneath him. “Cullen,” she breathed, hesitating for a long moment. “Do you-”

“Yes,” he said instantly, interrupting her before she could come to her senses and ask him something else. He kissed her, pressing her down into the mattress as he slid half over her. He wanted to feel her, wanted to feel every single inch of her precious body. Three small letters had given him the right to every curve, all her softness and all her warmth. It was his now- _she_ was his now- and he would learn it all by heart before he let her go.

It was probably going to go badly in some way, but he couldn’t bring himself to care right now. Right now she was here with him, and she was soft and warm and everything he had ever wanted- he had never wanted anything more in his life, never even known that he _could_ need something this badly. And tomorrow would arrive too soon and try to tear them apart, putting them back in their places and reminding them there was no place for a Templar and a mage to be together, but right now they were just a man and a woman, and more importantly she was _Bethany_ and that was by far the greatest thing he could ever imagine.

 _Mages are not to be trusted,_ cried the tiny, rational part of his brain that had apparently not yet given up trying to sway him from this path. Who cared about mages? Right now he was the one who was the least trustworthy out of the two of them; she’d done her best to dissuade him, she had done her best to resist him, and as she moaned against his mouth and threaded her fingers through his hair he couldn’t give a damn if mages were trustworthy or not.

All he wanted was this one moment, with this one woman. Surely the Maker would forgive him for taking something for himself for once, out of all his years of dutiful service?

When he tugged gently on the blanket between them, she did not try to stop him, and that in itself was one of the greatest miracles he’d ever encountered. He did not know what he had done to deserve her, for surely nothing he had done in his lifetime even came close, but he did not intend to squander this moment.

She tasted magnificent, soft and sweet with the tiny zing of lyrium that just made her that little bit more alluring. She whimpered against his mouth, a little hum of sound that should have made him panic and try to shush her, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about such things right now.

The blanket was gone, cast aside onto the floor and he could suddenly feel her foot, her very bare, dainty foot, rubbing tentatively against his calf and he wished desperately that his breeches would suddenly dissolve and he would be able to feel her brushing against his skin…

Blessed Maker, why did he suddenly feel like a fumbling boy again? It might have been- he counted quickly in his head- sixteen years, but he still remembered what was expected of him. Didn’t he?

Her lips broke from his slightly, panting for air while he pressed forward, unable to help himself. “Cullen,” she whispered, deftly avoiding his attempts to keep kissing her. He settled for running his mouth down the line of her jaw. “Cullen… I don’t…”

He pulled back sharply, breath rasping from him as he stared down at her. “Bethany, if you don’t want this, you need to say so _now_. I can’t walk away after this.”

She was breathtaking- he didn’t really know if he even _could_ walk away now. Her hair had slipped loose of the braid and was trailing across the pale sheets, a silky shadow that framed the heart shape of her face. Her lips were swollen and her eyes were glazed, and the way her pulse fluttered wildly against the juncture of her neck and her jaw was riveting. That nightgown, that damned temptation, had slipped a little and he wanted nothing more than to follow the line of fabric down her pale skin with tiny kisses.

“No, Cullen, I…” She took a shuddering breath, and he couldn’t help but appreciate the way it made her curves draw his eyes like magnets. She blushed and looked away, two fingers pressed against her bruised lips as she whispered “I don’t know what to do.”

He paused in surprise; another man might have laughed, and teased her gently for the admission. But he wasn’t another man, and he had so little experience in soothing maidenly nerves- or rather none- so he did the only thing he could do. “It will be fine,” he murmured, tugging her fingers away from her lips and offering her a gentle kiss. “Nothing you could do could be wrong.”

There were no more words for some time, for words were too much in this moment, when love was hiding from the world and trying to stay silent for fear of discovery. Bethany was not good at staying quiet, unused to the sensations and reacting accordingly, and he tried to shush her and soothe her half a dozen times over.

The first touch of skin against skin was so innocent, her arms across his shoulders, but it burned and sizzled and he thought for sure that his skin was going to burst into flames. She was so shy that he wanted to chuckle, but they were past that; laughter had gone and there was nothing but intensity and desperate, heartbreaking need. It was like a dance, a beautiful rhythm that had him nearly out of his head with longing as he gently coaxed and teased her with steps that were far older than any dance.

She was so beautiful, so full of life and heat and passion, and he had never craved anything in his life like he had craved her. When he laid her back against the pillows, he could see the flicker of apprehension in her eyes as he followed her down. He kissed her softly as a promise, an attempt to comfort her.

It did not help overly. Her eyes still filled with tears at the pain, her teeth biting into her lower lip as she bit back a surprised sob. She was so tense, her body rigid, and he held himself still with the greatest effort. He brushed away her tears gently, whispering soft words against her cheek as he waited for her.

He watched her eyes as pain gave way to discomfort, then discomfort changed slowly to a relaxed curiosity, and then he nearly groaned when he saw the first moment she felt pleasure, her eyes erupting with heat and desire and shock. “Oh, _Cullen_ ,” she choked, her fingertips digging into him so fiercely that he knew she was going to leave bruises. It was the surprise that was his undoing, the way she seemed so utterly stunned at what she could feel, that he did groan raggedly as he moved against her again, wanting to see the expression bloom again in her eyes.

He was not disappointed; she gasped, almost in alarm, and he felt her thighs tighten around his hips. “Cullen,” she gasped, “wh-what…?”

He kissed her, soothing her frayed control. “Is it bad?” he managed to force out.

She was shaking her head frantically, her breathing shallow and desperate. “N-no,” she whispered; she was trembling so violently, her control on a knife’s edge, and he buried his face in her neck as he fought to calm himself. He’d be damned if he ruined this for her just because he couldn’t keep his own desires in check. When he thought they could both stand it, he moved again and she let out a tiny squeak.

Capturing her mouth with his as he tried to build a rhythm that wouldn’t have him embarrassing himself instantly, he swallowed every sound she made, trying to muffle her cries. “ _Beth_ ,” he whispered raggedly, “you have to be quiet. Can’t let them hear us.”

She whimpered and bit into her lip. “Can’t… can’t help it,” she gasped, crying out on the last word. He quickly covered her mouth, hoping he had broken the sound in time even as he kept moving. She had learned the dance far too quickly, and when she began to move with him, helping him instead of letting him lead, it was almost too much.

He tried to hide his groan in the curve of her neck. “ _Beth_ ,” he growled, dragging his hand through her hair and turning her to face him so that he could kiss her fiercely. He knew he was being too rough, that he should be more gentle for her first time, but she wasn’t complaining and she was kissing him with just as much wild passion.

He knew they were in trouble when he felt her begin to tense; her hands grew desperate on his back, clutching and relaxing before grabbing frantically again. Her breathing had grown so rapidly shallow that he thought she might pass out. He saw her eyes widen, saw the shock flickering over her face as the end began to take her and he knew instantly- she was going to scream.

He clapped a hand over her mouth just as her whole body locked up; the anticipated scream was muffled by his palm and he would have prayed desperately to the Maker that it was enough, that he’d dampened the noise sufficiently, but the feel of her losing control beneath him was too much for _him_ and he followed her over the edge. He buried his face against her neck, fighting to remain silent as the end shuddered through him.

And there it was- the moment was complete. The world had not ended with a mage and a Templar coming together in love. He had not gotten his breath back, but he still propped himself up on his elbows and kissed her, cradling her face tenderly between his hands as they both drifted down from the place they had soared to.

“Beth,” he murmured against her lips. “I love you.”

A whimper escaped from her. “I love you too.”

She blushed furiously and looked anywhere but at him when he fetched the shallow basin from her vanity and gently washed her maiden’s blood from her skin. He climbed carefully back into the bed with her and let her roll into his arms, only just repressing the need to grab her to him tightly and squeeze ferociously.

She giggled softly, her face pressed into his chest. He grinned down at the top of her head. “What?”

“There’s so much about you I don’t know,” she said; he waited for her to explain why that was so amusing. “If I told my mother I was in love with a man and I didn’t even know his last name or his age, she would have an apoplectic fit.”

He smiled into her hair. “I don’t know my last name,” he said, running his fingers through the tangles that had formed. “I don’t really remember my parents, either. And as best as I can tell, I’m thirty one.”

Her fingers were absently tracing patterns over his bare chest and he fought a shiver. “You went into the Chantry that young?” she mused.

“Actually I went into the Chantry quite late. I lived on the streets of Denerim before that. I got on the wrong side of the law one too many times and they gave me a choice- the noose, or the chapterhouse. Needless to say it took me a while to settle in.”

She wriggled until she had enough room to look up at him. “I can’t picture you as a street urchin,” she said softly.

He smiled tenderly and kissed her. “It was a long time ago. I was a very different person then.”

A tiny flare of pain appeared in her eyes. “Cullen… tomorrow-”

“Hush, Beth,” he whispered, pulling her against him tightly and folding his arms around her. “The morning will come soon enough. Just… let’s pretend for another few hours that things are different.”

 _Let’s pretend that I don’t have to turn my back on you._

The world does not stop spinning for the love of a mage and a Templar.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meredith's back story is rather heartbreaking. I still haven't managed to summon the courage to do a pro Templar runthrough, but I've seen the scenes online to know that she's more complex than most people give her credit for. I try not to hate on her too much, and her involvement in this was necessary. Still doesn't make it any less sad.

The grey sky had just begun to lighten when he kissed her on the brow and murmured her name. She stirred and stretched with a yawn, before tensing when she realised she was still in his arms and still quite naked; the blush that bloomed over her cheeks was adorable and he kissed her nose gently.

“Good morning,” he whispered.

Her smile was endearingly shy as she whispered “Um, good morning.”

He kissed her softly and she moaned quietly, her hands creeping hesitantly up to his shoulders. He lost himself in her for a few minutes, that alluring taste making his head spin with need. When he finally broke away they were both panting slightly.

“It’s about time for them to start serving breakfast,” he said, laying a kiss on the corner of her mouth. “If you head out now, the corridors will still be relatively empty. I should be able to get away.”

She nodded, then blushed again; she wrapped the sheet tightly around herself as she struggled to her feet and began to dash around in the dark. He couldn’t help but chuckle at her modesty and unable to help himself he climbed out of the bed and walked up behind her. She started when he slid his hands around her waist, but relaxed back against him when he kissed down her neck to her shoulder.

“Cullen,” she whispered breathily, “you have to stop that. We need to get you out of here.”

He smiled against the curve of her neck. “I suppose I’ll comply this once.”

They fumbled around in the dark for a few quick minutes to find their clothing, Bethany taking great pains with her appearance. There was not much point in making an attempt with his, given that he only had his sleep clothes to change into; Bethany blushed when she saw him dressed so scruffily, and he shrugged.

He pulled her tightly to him, kissing her fiercely before he let her go to the door. “We’ll take about this later,” he said softly, before taking up a place on the wall where he wouldn’t be seen when the door opened.

She took a deep breath, her eyes lingering over him before she opened the door and stepped out into the hallway.

“Good morning, Miss Hawke. You slept well?”

“Good morning, ser knight. As well as can be expected given the vague news I received.”

She closed the door behind her, and the voices immediately muffled. So far so good. He waited as their footsteps faded into the distance before going to the door and listening intently. The hallway beyond seemed silent; he waited for a few long minutes before cracking the door open ever so slightly.

The corridor was empty. Holding his breath, he eased it open and stuck his head out of the door. There was no one to be seen, so he ducked quickly out of the room, shutting the door behind him as quietly as possible before setting off at a brisk pace towards his own quarters.

He made it back to his rooms without encountering a single soul in the hallways, which immediately struck him as suspicious. Granted, he knew all the patrols by heart, so if he had come across someone he would have been able to avoid them, but to find no one? A sense of unease settled over his shoulders as he set to getting ready for the day, having barely enough time to dress before the expected knock came on the door. Philippe, one of the Gallows’ Tranquils, stood on the other side ready to assist with his armour.

“Good morning, Knight Captain,” the Tranquil said in that monotone voice that was so familiar. “Have I arrived too early?”

He stood aside to allow him entry, waving him in. “No, please, come in. You’re right on time.”

He was apprehensive as he strapped on his armour with the help of Philippe; it all seemed far too easy, far too convenient that nothing had gone wrong. If there was one thing he had learned from all his years of service, it was never to take anything at face value. And for the first time ever he found his eyes drifting towards the burn mark in the centre of the other man’s forehead, and the blank look of serenity on his face as he went through the motions of carefully attaching each piece of armour.

He’d never thought twice about the consequences of the Rite of Tranquility before, but as he stood patiently for Philippe to finish with his armour he couldn’t help but wonder about the man. Had he had friends, or a lover, before the Rite had snatched away his soul? Did he still think about them in anyway, or did he simply exist, without any regard to what had taken place in the past?

If he and Bethany were discovered, and the Rite was forced upon her, would she remember their night together or would it simply be lost in the fugue of ‘ _before_ ’?

Finally Philippe was done, bowing absently to him before departing for his other chores. Cullen stared after him for a moment, suddenly much more intrigued and horrified about the Tranquil who had served him dutifully for years. He had never thought to think of the people that had once existed within the vacant shells that now stood around the Gallows; thinking of someone he cared for quite desperately joining their ranks made him feel very abruptly ill.

But he didn’t have the time or the luxury for that. If he didn’t hurry, he would be late to meet with the Knight Commander, and today of all days he couldn’t raise her suspicions. Not with so much at stake.

Meredith was already at her desk, Elsa standing placidly at her side with a tray bearing the remains of the Commander’s breakfast. At his entrance, Meredith glanced up at him and then back down to her paperwork. “Good morning, Knight Captain,” she said coolly. Her tone immediately sent a shiver down his spine, but he got a hold of himself quickly. She was always abrupt in the mornings; he had no need to worry that she was aware of his night-time dalliance. “Elsa, you may leave us.”

The Tranquil assistant nodded and headed towards the door. Cullen stepped aside for her, nodding politely as she passed. “Knight Captain,” the woman said blandly in greeting. Like with Philippe a few minutes earlier, he felt immensely uncomfortable at the dead expression on the woman’s face and looked away as soon as it wouldn’t be noted as suspicious.

Luckily the Commander wasn’t looking, already preoccupied with the documents before her on her desk. “Take a seat, Knight Captain,” she said, gesturing vaguely. Not in any hurry to risk her anger this early in the morning he sat down quickly and waited for her to collect her thoughts.

He didn’t have to wait long before she lowered her quill and looked up, her visage severe. “I’ve already had Lieutenant Harris return from the Viscount’s office this morning with a report from the Guard Captain.” She grimaced. “I am, however, loathe to trust her testimony at face value given her connection with Hawke. I would appreciate it if you stopped to speak to her after meeting with Hawke.” She handed him a handful of papers. “This is the Captain’s report of the incident; make yourself familiar with it before you question her.”

Cullen took the document and began to flick through quickly, scanning the perfunctory description of the kidnap, assassination and ensuing brawl. “I can’t accuse the Guard Captain of withholding information to protect a friend.”

“I didn’t say you had to,” she said coolly, already frowning over some new paper in front of her. “But if it comes to that, I would hope you would remember that at the end of the day, she is only responsible for protecting the people of this city from pickpockets, whereas you defend the people from demons. She is easily replaced whereas you are a product of years of careful training and devotion. If it comes to it, do your duty, Captain.”

“Yes, Commander,” he said absently, still reading through the report. “I’ll leave for the city as soon as we are done here.”

“Not immediately,” she corrected. She seemed agitated as she threw the paper back on the desk. “You will relocate to the Chantry chapter for the next two weeks, to determine just how widespread this foolishness is amongst our men. If you believe anyone to be a risk to our duties, strip them of their rank immediately.”

Two weeks away from Bethany? Without the chance to talk about what had happened between them, or to even hold her again? So be it; they’d risked enough with a single night together. Perhaps the time apart would do them both some good, no matter how much he might wish otherwise. “I will prepare immediately,” he said; he bowed to her, fist clenched over his heart, and turned to go. His hand had just touched the door handle when she spoke again.

“Knight Captain.”

Her tone told him everything and he felt his stomach turn over in horror.

“Lock the door, if you would, and take a seat.”

His first instinct was to tear the door open and run, but that would end so much worse. His second instinct was also to run. He’d never known such stark terror as he did in that moment, wondering if she knew, _knowing_ that she knew, and feeling so utterly powerless to prevent what was about to happen. Had he sentenced Bethany to death or Tranquility with his stupidity and weakness?

With as much composure as he could muster, he did as instructed and took the seat that was offered to him. “Knight Commander?” he said as calmly as he could.

Meredith did not speak for a few agonisingly long moments, staring at him with her hands planted firmly on the desk. He felt like she could see straight through him and fought the urge to squirm like a scolded charge. “Knight Captain,” she began slowly; he tensed despite how hard he tried not to. “A disturbing revelation has come to light that I was hoping to discuss with you.”

He kept his features schooled to neutrality with only extreme effort. “Knight Commander?”

She merely looked at him, a trace of scorn in her face. “It does you no good to play coy, Captain,” she said coldly. “I know that you did not return to your room last night. I am curious as to how you would explain your absence.”

The world screamed to a halt at her words. _Oh Maker, please don’t let this fall on Bethany._ “I have no explanation that you would care to hear, Knight Commander,” he said, voice rasping.

She stared. “Humour me.”

He felt light headed; somehow he found the nerve to defy her again. “I would prefer not to say, Knight Commander.”

The silence was deafening.

Meredith finally sighed angrily. “We dance around the issue needlessly. I know you were with Bethany Hawke, Captain. My question is _why._ ”

It seemed like his entire existence had ground to a halt with those words. “I would prefer not to say, Knight Commander,” he said roughly. This was it- this was the end. Bethany was going to be made Tranquil, and there was nothing he would be able to do to save her.

Meredith stared at him; unable to meet her eyes any longer, he dropped his gaze to the desktop. His skin felt like it was crawling, and he felt certain he was going to be ill any moment. He had failed her, failed to protect her as a Templar and failed to protect her as a lover. He only hoped that the Commander condemned him to die, so that he did not have to live with the agony of knowing what had become of Bethany.

Then Meredith said the last thing he expected her to say.

“We shall consider this your first and only warning,” she said quietly, her voice no less steely and formidable for having spoken softly. “And I extend you that much of a courtesy only because of how exceptional you have been in your duties until now. If I learn that you have spent any more time in her company, she will share in your punishment.”

His blood ran cold- not at the thought of anything she might inflict on him, but at the threat to Bethany, finally voiced aloud instead of just haunting his thoughts… To think of her beautiful, soulful eyes dimmed by Tranquility or cold with death…

“Do you understand, Knight Captain?”

How could he not? “I do,” he said, hoping she would ignore the way his voice caught on those two small words. Another three letters that turned his life upside down.

He was staring fiercely at the desktop, too ashamed to meet her gaze while she accused him of the gravest mistake a Templar could possibly make. So he didn’t see the way her eyes softened, as if with old regret, before she spoke again. “Mages are not normal, Cullen. They cannot lead normal lives and you know this. It is why you have been so successful here in Kirkwall, and it is why you will continue to be successful once you leave this mistake behind you. And you _will_ leave it behind you, because you know that it is the right thing to do and it will set you back on the path that the Maker has determined for you.”

He had nothing he could say to that except “Yes, Knight Commander.”

She paused for a very long time, and eventually she sighed in resignation. “It is folly to love a mage, Cullen. Would you fall asleep with a viper in your bed? She may claim to love you, but you will never fully know whether she means it or whether she hopes to use your affections against you to gain her freedom. You will never know whether your mind is your own, or whether or not she has made you her thrall. Is that what you want, Knight Captain? To lose your own willpower to blood magic?”

The mere thought of it made him ill, his mind instantly flying back to that dark night locked in Kinloch Hold as blood mages tore the tower to pieces. “No, Knight Commander.”

“You are but human,” she continued gently, “and sometimes the temptations that the Maker places before us are too much for us. But sometimes they are there as lessons, for us to take away and learn from and grow stronger. And you will grow stronger from this, Knight Captain. You will take this folly, this weakness, and you will leave it behind you, where it belongs.”

He had no way to respond that wouldn’t see Bethany hurt. “Yes, Knight Commander.”

In her voice he heard the threat that he had been terrified of from the start of this whole debacle. “And if you spend any more time in the company of Bethany Hawke, Knight Captain, I will see her made Tranquil. To protect you from your own weakness, it will be done.”

***

He found her in the chapel, surrounded by more of the younger children like she’d been supervising that day in the library. He could hear them giggling and shrieking over the top of her instructions as he walked with feet that seemed almost to be encased in stone.

“… and that’s when they decided to march all the way to Tevinter from Ferelden- who can show me how to march? Oh, look at that, Jayden has an excellent march!” He stopped in the doorway to watch as the children cavorted around her skirts, arms swinging and knees lifting absurdly high in some childish parody of a war march. “Oh, look at you all- I’m sure Andraste would have been very grateful to have you all with her on the Exalted March!”

She was laughing along with them, a child tucked onto her hip with his thumb in his mouth as he dozed against her shoulder. She looked beautiful- her cheeks were flushed with laughter and the smile she gave the children made his heart skip a beat. He felt like the greatest wretch to have ever drawn breath.

She hadn’t noticed him yet and she continued the lesson. “And who can tell me exactly why we’re marching with Andraste to Tevinter?” When nobody answered straight away, she said “Come on, we talked about this last week, remember? Andraste led the Exalted March to Tevinter because the Maker told her to…?”

“ _TheMakertoldhertofightthebadmages!_ ” One of the little girls said it in a rush, the words tumbling over one another until it seemed like one immensely long word rather than a whole sentence. She giggled and covered her mouth with her hands, jumping up and down in glee at getting the answer.

“That’s right, Sylvie,” Bethany said warmly, patting the girl on the head without pausing in the rocking motion that was soothing the little boy on her hip. “The Magisters in Tevinter were using their magic badly, and it made the Maker very unhappy. So he sent-”

“Does the Maker not like us ‘cause we’re mages?” Cullen froze at the innocent question, something he heard the older mages lament regularly… but he’d never heard Bethany’s thoughts on the matter. How did someone so devout view a chant that called for her imprisonment?

Bethany smiled gently at the young boy who had asked the age old question. “Of course he doesn’t,” she said brightly. “He loves all of us equally, but to keep us safe, it’s better for us to come and live in the Circle. That way we can learn how to use the gift that he gave us without worrying about getting hurt. If you wanted to be a famous swordsman, you wouldn’t practice by yourself, would you? You’d go and you’d find other knights to help you train!”

“But then why did he send Andraste with an army to kill the mages?” The little boy was still frowning angrily; old habits kicked in and Cullen made a note to have the boy watched more closely in his classes for signs of rebellion.

“Because, Angus, they were bad mages,” she said gently. “And they were hurting a lot of good people, and they cried out to the Maker for help. The Maker doesn’t like people hurting each other, and he decided to send Andraste to save them. He wasn’t angry with them because they were mages- he was angry because they used their power to make people do their bidding, and that isn’t what magic is supposed to be for.”

Blessed Maker, how could one woman seem to have been created with the sole purpose of standing beside him? All he wanted to do was walk into that room and debate the nuances in the Chant with her, to learn how else she interpreted words that were clearly as dear to her as they were to him. The whole scene was so utterly… domestic, the way she rocked a child on her hip and gently encouraged the rest of them to grow in their faith the same way a mother would guide her children.

He’d never felt pain as he did in that moment, knowing what he had to do to her.

He must have moved slightly, enough to catch her attention, for she finally looked up and spotted him. The light that shone from her eyes was breathtaking, and for a brief second he felt like the greatest man in the world; with the love of a woman like her, he felt like he could do anything.

“And we’ll take a break there now, I think,” she said, addressing her statement to the children even though her eyes were locked with his. A faint blush coloured her cheeks. “Everybody can run back to the dormitories for some free time before your next lesson- how does that sound?”

Her suggestion was met with ecstatic cheers from her young charges, and they all went bolting past him a second later, the little sleeper from her hip the last to wander past. And then they were alone- blessedly, terrifyingly alone and the smile that she gave him made his knees weak.

“Hello, Cullen,” she said softly, her blush deepening prettily. “I didn’t expect to see you again today; I thought you’d be too busy with your case.”

She was walking towards him, which was just what he wanted, because then he could put his arms around her and she would turn her face up towards his and- no! He couldn’t let her get close. He had to do this now, for her own protection at the very least.

“Meredith knows,” he blurted out. There was no way he could reveal that without making her panic, without making it sound exactly as bad as it sounded. Better to say it and have it done than dance around the subject.

A terrified stillness fell over her, and she stopped a pace away from him, her hand frozen halfway between them as she reached for him.

“She… I’m to head into the city,” he said, trying to fill the agonising silence between them. “I have to talk to your brother, and I have to check to make sure there’s nothing else sinister taking place in the chapterhouse at the Chantry…” He trailed off when he realised he was babbling.

Her hand fell back to her side and the joy that had sparkled in her eyes a moment ago had dimmed until it vanished entirely. “She knows what happened?” she finally whispered.

He wanted to reach out and take hold of her, to pull her into his arms and kiss her desperately until she smiled again. But he kept his fists clenched at his sides as he said “I… I don’t know how much she knows. She knew enough.”

Bethany took a deep, shaking breath before she continued. “Cullen, I-”

“Don’t, Beth,” he said instantly, feeling his chest tighten at the look on her face. “I shouldn’t even be talking to you. If Meredith finds us together-”

“I love you,” she whispered, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

“I…” What was he risking, even coming to warn her in the first place? Would Meredith take this as all the justification she needed to strike against them? “… can’t.”

She was silent for a very long moment before she nodded. A single tear fell down her cheek. “I understand,” she said softly.

That was the very worst thing she could have said. Why did she have to be so sensible and so calm even as he broke her heart? He wanted her to scream at him; he wanted her to yell and call him every name imaginable, because he deserved every one of them and he needed her to blame him. The guilt and the pain was tearing him apart, and she stood there poised and elegant as her heart shattered, accepting his cruel words and all he wanted was for her to run at him, so that he could grab her before she tried to strike him with her dainty hands, hands that had left marks on him last night in passion rather than in anger and _he couldn’t stand it._

He was ready to beg for her forgiveness, to tell her he was sorry for hurting her and he loved her, he loved her so much and please could they find a way around this, so that he didn’t have to break her heart and make her hate him, when she reached up with a hand that shook slightly and wiped away the single tear. No other fell to take its place.

“If you’ll excuse me, Knight Captain, I really should see that the children made it safely back to their dormitory. I don’t want them to get into trouble for running amok in the hallways.”

She offered him a smile that seemed almost genuine, and then she was brushing past him- close enough to reach out and touch if he wanted. And there was nothing else in the world that he wanted more, but she was out of reach for him forever. She was gone a moment later without a backward glance and he was left alone in the chapel, with only her scent lingering in the air to remind him of what he had lost.


End file.
